


a printer room for two

by jefferoni (CrowleysGlasses)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Has Anxiety, Anxiety, Fluff, M/M, Storms, Thomas Jefferson Loves Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson has anxiety, okay listen this is JUST fluff, thats literally it, they cuddle that’s it, this is just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26043409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowleysGlasses/pseuds/jefferoni
Summary: He doesn't notice Jefferson sitting down next to him until a thumb graces just below his eye and wipes a bitter tear away. He flinches and the hand is gone. He looks over, Jefferson automatically glances away. This is a side he's never seen of the man. This shy, bashful, quiet man is such a difference to the cocky piece of shit Alexander knows.-A storm is happening outside, Jefferson vows to help Hamilton, even if it’s just by being with him.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 142





	a printer room for two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [just_spilled_ink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_spilled_ink/gifts).



> So anyway this was basically just a request from tumblr (where you should follow me ;))  
> Just pure fluff, that’s literally it.  
> Gifted to just_spilled_ink [their tumblr](https://pufflypuffle.tumblr.com) because they’re cool as fuck and i love them :D

Jefferson grabs Alexander by the arm and tugs him down the hall. The office is long empty, the employees filed home hours previous. A rumble of thunder breaks the unpleasant silence, and Hamilton lets out a pathetic whimper, suppressing the overwhelming urge to curl up into a ball. 

Jefferson is still pulling, less harsh and more caring with a focused expression plastered over his features. If he weren't so utterly caught in the net of fear, Alexander would've taken a moment to admire him. 

They turn a corner, a left he notes and then a door is thrown open with urgency. Another loud clap of thunder and a strike of lightning has involuntary tears tracking down Hamilton's cheeks. A choked sob comes from one of them, and it takes Alexander a second to realise it was him. He's guided by a strong hand into the room, _a printer room, how classy_ he thinks. 

The door shuts and a light flickers on, suddenly the storm is nonexistent. Standing before him is a tired looking Thomas Jefferson. His usual arrogant smirk is replaced with a sad looking frown, his forehead wrinkles with the expression. He looks old. Well, not _old._ But older than he is. As far as Alexander knows, Jefferson is thirty-five, a full four years older than Hamilton, but he could easily pass for his mid-forties. 

Jefferson opens his mouth to speak, and that familiar sultry drawl does not escape. The accent itself is the same, but his tone has changed dramatically. His voice is quieter, lighter. He sounds more friendly, approachable and in a way… shy? It's an emotion he wasn't aware the ignorant jerk possessed, but it was a breath of fresh air. 

"This is the only soundproof room on this floor," Jefferson breathes, stepping away from the door, releasing the handle.

Alexander sighs. That's how he can no longer hear the crash of thunder. There aren't any windows either, so he's safe from seeing any of the storm too. Then he raises a questioning eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

He examines with intent as Jefferson's face lights up red, all the way up to his ears. The blush isn't as noticeable as it would be, and he susses the man must be grateful for his darker skin hiding his fluster. "Unimportant," he mutters and turns back to the door. "Would you like me to leave?"

Alexander blinks a few times. Despite being unable to see or hear the storm, he knows it's out there. And he really doesn't want to be alone. "Stay? Just until it's gone?" He musters the willpower to ask for help, and it doesn't feel good. Not until Jefferson lets go of the handle again and nods, his hands dropping to his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.

With a moment of silence washing over them, Alexander sinks to the floor, tugging his knees up to his chest. The tears haven't ceased in their tirade of running down his face, and he sniffs as he realises this fact. His - admittedly hot - political rival has seen him at his lowest point. Great.

He doesn't notice Jefferson sitting down next to him until a thumb graces just below his eye and wipes a bitter tear away. He flinches and the hand is gone. He looks over, Jefferson automatically glances away. This is a side he's never seen of the man. This shy, bashful, quiet man is such a difference to the cocky piece of shit Alexander knows. 

They sit in silence for a minute longer, enjoying the feeling of not arguing. Alexander has calmed down significantly when Jefferson speaks.

"When I have panic attacks I come in here." He says with a simple shrug, but his eyes shine with fear and regret as soon as the words pass his lips.

"What?" Alexander asks, exasperated. He takes big gasping breaths.

"You asked me how I know this room is soundproof," Thomas (when did Jefferson become Thomas?) reminds him. "Well, I come in here when I'm having a panic attack, or I need to cry or whatever." The man looks away, averting his eyes from a confused Alexander. 

"What? When you need to…?" Alexander's voice wavers with the effort to hold himself together, for his and Thomas' sake.

Thomas catches his bottom lip between his teeth, rolls it back and forth as he considers his words. "Cry, or I'm panicking. Usually twice a week at least."

"When was the last time-?" Alexander asks, throat thick. It feels as though he's the cause of this.

"Yesterday-" Thomas announces, "you called me a pathetic disgrace to the earth," he adds, glancing off. The storm may have stopped by now, and yet neither dare move. 

Alexander caught his bottom lip between his teeth, rolled it back and forth nervously before letting it go. "I'm- sorry about that. You're… you're not that bad actually."

Thomas scoffs. "No, Hamilton. I am that bad."

Shaking his head, Alexander cuts in. "You're not. You wouldn't have helped me if you were."

Thomas snorts out a soft laugh and drops his head to Alex's shoulder absent-mindedly, not thinking about his actions. "You're not so bad yourself, Hamilton."

"Alexander," he corrects, threading his fingers through Thomas' curls. They spring - much to Alex's delight - to the touch. Not only that, but Thomas makes no objections, merely leans closer to Alexander.

"You're not so bad, Alexander," he repeats, name changed to fit better. It brings a gentle smile to Alex's face, and in this moment he's completely forgotten where they are. In his mind, they're no longer huddled in a cramped printer room, there is no storm outside and Thomas hasn't just opened up about his anxiety to him. No, it's just him and Thomas in their own little world together.

And it's perfect for now.

**Author's Note:**

> comment and leave kudos if you liked it, I don’t write for y’all to ignore the feedback buttons!  
> Follow my tumblr [jefferoni-quotes](https://jefferoni-quotes.tumblr.com)


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